


Dinner Date

by Grenegome



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen, Kinkmeme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grenegome/pseuds/Grenegome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has lunch with the Devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Date

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Dresden Files Kink Meme.

McAnalley’s bar has hosted some pretty powerful beings. Vampire lords, faerie queens and knights of the cross have all sat and supped Mac’s home brewed ale; it just came with the territory when the territory was neutral. But most of the time, when nothing big was going down, Mac’s clientele consisted of the clued in, the curious and the modestly talented.

So I didn’t expect to meet the Prince of Darkness when I swung by for a steak sandwich.

It was a _good_ steak sandwich; I was making happy little noises as I plowed through crusty white bread and tender beef, until I was interrupted by a polite, possibly British voice. “May I join you, Harry Dresden?”

“Depends who _you_ are,” I said, looking up. He was tall, pale skinned, hair a dark blond with threads of copper running through it. I chanced a quick glance at his eyes. Blue.

“I have a lot of names,” he said, sliding into the chair opposite me. “Rather like you.”

“Four? You can spare me one, then. Or just show me your ID if you’re shy.”

“I’m not worried what you’ll do with my Names, wizard. I just thought introductions might set us off on the wrong foot.”

Great. I set down my sandwich and shook out my shield bracelet. I shouldn’t need it, not here, but anyone who thought their very name would set me on edge deserved a little caution. “Neutral territory,” I reminded him, aiming for casual with a deep draught of my beer.

“Mmmm. Mab’s Accords, yes. A useful little rulebook, but not one I adhere to.”

My staff was propped against the side of the table. I _definitely_ shouldn’t need that, but all of a sudden I liked the idea of a weapon in hand. “What do you want?”

“Nothing, really. I’m just out for a walk, but I’ve been hearing such _interesting_ things about you, Harry Dresden. I thought it was time I stopped by.”

“All good, I hope?”

“Good is such a subjective term. Interesting is better.” He smiled like a man with a joke to share, and then leaned towards me across the table, lowering his voice like he was imparting a secret. “You tempted a Denarian. That’s delightfully perverse.”

He shouldn’t know that. Certain people knew I’d picked up a coin and cast it aside, but the _details..._ Lash lived and died in my head. He had no right to know the details.

My mystery lunch date, whoever he was, was trying to freak me out. And it was working. But I had a couple of crossed wires in my head when it came to fear and anger.

“Blow me,” I snarled, mirroring his posture by leaning forward to get in his face. “You know what else I’ve done? Throttled Nic half to death and tossed him in the lake. If you want a piece, you’ll have to work for it.”

The stranger smiled at me, beatific.

“Such _anger_. Does it come from your mother, I wonder? One of Margaret’s blessings? Or did you earn it the old fashioned way?” Few things knock me off balance like dropping my mom into casual conversation; I sat back abruptly and he kept going. “Mmmm, a little of both. A little slither of her wrath tucked away for safekeeping, and then Justin DuMorne to whet it into a blade.”

“Shut up,” I rasped, reaching for my waiting staff. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you sent DuMorne down to me in flames, because he wanted to limit you. Mould you. Take you as his tool.” I stood up, chair clattering away behind me. I wanted to launch a fist full of force right between the bastard’s eyes, but it wasn’t fair on Mac. I should just suck it up, walk away; there was nothing keeping me here. “He’s still burning, you know,” the creature said. “Controlling paternal figures don’t bring out the best in me I’m afraid.”

This guy wasn’t bringing out the best in _me_ either. “If you’re looking for trouble then lets take this outside,” I said. “I’ll be happy to show you some.”

He tilted his head. “I think not. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Well you’re going about _not_ fighting me the wrong way, jackass. One last time; what do you want?”

Another bright, wide smile full of joy and light. “I want you to flourish, Dresden. I want you to continue fucking fate sideways until it can’t see straight.” The vulgarity surprised me. This guy looked and sounded like one of the Old World types; all pleases and thank yous until they tried to rip your face off.

“Well I’m doing that just fine by myself. Butt out, Beelzebub.”

“Not a preferred name, I admit. But one I’ll answer to.” He inclined his head, and this time the smile was almost coy.

No.

No. I was _not_ talking to the Prince of Hell during my lazy Sunday lunch at Mac’s. Even _my_ life couldn’t be that shitty, surely? “Wannabe,” I said, a little wildly. “You’re some pissant hellspawn with delusions of grandeur, aren’t you?”

“Out for a walk on the mortal plane? In a body like this? Come now Dresden, you know better.”

Oh stars. I was. I was having lunch _with the devil_. My staff wasn’t likely to do me much good. In a fit of optimism, I grabbed the salt shaker off the table, yanked the top off it, and then upended it over the guy’s head. “Get thee behind me, Satan!”

The devil closed his eyes beneath the shower of salt and then opened them slowly. His gaze was heavy in a way it hadn’t been before. “Behind you? Oh, _gladly_. It’d be a delightful way to spend a sabbath.”

I threw the whole shaker.

At his head.

It didn’t connect, it just halted in mid air, and then disintegrated. Shit. The Adversary shook his head. “So jumpy, Harry. Calm yourself, I know where I’m not welcome.”

Before I could start yelling that the devil wasn’t welcome _here_ , another voice answered him.

“You overstep your bounds, brother.” Without warning, God’s wetworks guy appeared beside our table, dressed in nondescript black jeans and a button down.

The devil sighed and tilted his chair back from the table, swinging on its back legs like a naughty kid. “Uriel. Would you drink with me?”

“You know I cannot. There can be no peaceful conduct between us. Return to your sphere.”

The chair thumped back down onto the floor. “If I say no?”

“You already know the answer to that question.” They looked one another in the eyes for a long moment, and I wondered what that meant for angels, whether all gazes were soul gazes. They broke away from one another simultaneously.

“I do.” Lucifer stood and stretched, and gave Uriel another easy smile. “Keep an eye on your wizard here, brother. He’s a little closer to my kingdom than he should be, for one so sweet.”

“I am,” Uriel said seriously. I was too busy trying to work out whether to object to the _sweet_ comment, or the casual discussion of my immortal soul to actually contribute to the discussion.

Lucifer turned to go.

“Hey!” I yelled. The devil looked back over his shoulder, eyebrow arched in a question.

“You really knew my mom?” I said. Uriel dropped a hand on my shoulder and then shook his head, forbidding the answer. The devil rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes, very well. She was a delight, and I miss her, but _Kyrie eleison_ and all that rot. I can’t touch her now.”

“Right,” I said, because what the hell else do you say to things like that?

“Be good now, I’ll see you around.”

And then he was gone. I sat back down, picked up my sandwich, and eyed Uriel. He was frowning at me, and I smiled back, slightly manic with the knowledge that if he wanted to smite me, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“So... you come here often?”


End file.
